those places you go
by iloveyou123
Summary: If you weren't real, I'd make you up. / Or, Derrick writes Claire letters.


those places you go

if you weren't real, i'd make you up. / Or, Derrick writes Claire letters. "I feel weird writing to you, but everybody said that I should."

* * *

><p>saw your ghost shaped like<p>

the gold in my hair and hands.

- rose's song, halia meguid.

;;

dear claire,

it's been a while since i've written to you. i feel weird doing it now, but everyone (well, my therapist- can you believe the rents sprung for that fucking crap?) said that i should.

i don't really know what to say now. i think it's maybe been too long. i used to-

um, well-

write you a lot. every day. but i don't know if i can do that anymore, claire, i

fuck, i miss you a lot.

like, more than a lot.

so so much more.

god, plovert would give me fucking hell for this.

but- it's like.

whatever.

massie misses you too. josh has to like, pull her away from her room sometimes-

i don't know your favorite kind of flowers. i think you said it once, but. bad memory, remember? (ha.) i'm referring to how we used to watch nemo and you called me dory. that was funny.

at the time, i guess. now, i don't know. i guess it still is, a little bit. when i think about it.

what was i-

oh, yeah. i couldn't remember your flowers so i brought you a pack of Marlboros instead.

that's kind of fucked up that i know that but i couldn't for the life of me tell anyone the flowers you liked best.

shit.

um, well. i'll probably write some more. maybe not, though. i have shit to do. college apps, and stuff.

derrick

;;

dear claire,

alright, so i decided i can like, make this a weekly thing or some shit. i mean,

it's not like you're ever going to write back so it's not like i should even fucking do this in the first place,

whoa. that's-

you're never going to read this. you are _never_ going to read this. i could say anything. no one else is going to read this, either.

um, i hooked up with alicia sophomore year. i don't think you'd care (we were never anything, were we, so it totally doesn't matter at all) but i probably should have told you.

before this, i mean. cause, you don't actually know that's happened. well, maybe you do. maybe you can like, read this over my shoulder or something-

shit, just scared myself. you're not there. you, uh, probably know that.

yeah, well, i've just wasted both of our times. josh is here now and i don't want him reading this, that douchebag, so.

derrick

;;

dear claire,

cam says that sometimes when you can't remember something, your brain makes up a memory to replace the one you've lost. that scientific stuff kinda freaks me out, but it's interesting. like, what if none of my memories were real? i mean, who fucking knows how many of them are made up? you'd never really know. that's the thing.

fuck.

okay, i'm kind of drunk right now. you can probably tell.

derrick

;;

dear claire,

happy valentine's day. i'm spending it alone. you're definitely shocked by that, i know, the sexy-licious derrick harrington spending valentines day without some victoria's secret model? well, here's the reasoning behind this phenomenon:

i never sleep with chicks on v-day. they get too attached. and i am NOT in it for the long term, baby.

i mean, me and you fucked on v-day, but that was. different. or whatever. cause you were like,

well, it doesn't matter now. i feel retarded talking about something i don't even care about.

(since it's valentine's day and stuff)

love,

derrick

;;

dear claire,

is it snowing wherever you are? it's snowing here. like, a fucking lot. josh made me go sledding with him. massie came along. she actually made a snowman. it was pretty fucking bad ass. massie's cool. i know why you liked her. like, i get it. she was your best friend and shit. and you were fucking nuts, babe, but she's a little more chill. don't get offended. always liked you best, didn't i?

but yeah. it was fun, and we got her out of the house.

she doesn't go to school some days, anymore. i mean, even i go to school. well, unless i'm really hung over. or high.

anyway, we made snow angels. or tried to. but we just ended up walking all over them and they ended up looking kind of shit.

having a fucked up snow angel, i don't get it. what's the point, if it's not going to be good?

well, just wanted to tell you, i guess. and i might not be able to write anymore because i have fucking _frostbite_. jesus christ.

derrick

;;

dear claire,

hey,

remember when we were sitting on the docks? after like, that weird first boy-girl party at dyl's back in eighth grade? you taught me how to smoke, which, by the way, when i die of cancer, it's going to be your fault. so fuck you in advance for that.

but remember, you said "nothing's ever perfect" or some shit. and i didn't know what you meant.

how the fuck were you that jaded already, doll?

sometimes i wish people would stop pretending everything's fine. nothing's fine. massie doesn't leave home unless we make her. todd has like, fucking survivor's guilt, did you know that? the last sibling or something. nothing's okay, but people still act like it. it's fucking stupid.

you know what i'm talking about?

you would. seeing as how you always noticed people's fucked up lives, the cracks in them. don't know how you did it. it was actually really fucking annoying. the way you could look at people like "your life is so ordinary. i can see right through you."

fucking hated that shit, babe. probably the one thing i don't miss about you. well, there's actually probably loads of shit i don't miss, just can't think of it right now.

just you, maybe.

yeah, well, i need a shower. i fucking stink like pot. wouldn't want the maid noticing and tattling on me, now would we?

derrick

;;

dear claire,

sorry for the month i didn't write or whatever. got homework piled on me, and massie had another breakdown- oh, yeah. meant to write you about that, too. dammit. well, she did. and it was fucking bad. cut her wrists, or something. there was blood everywhere, according to josh, and i-

i just felt really fucking sorry. for everything. like, if i could do something, to bring you back, even for like, a day, i'd do it. not for me. for her. and for your brother. and everyone.

did you even realize what would happen, once you-

whatever.

anyways,

yeah, was really busy. skye got engaged, by the way. she's happy, which is cool. not that skye's ever not happy, in her bizarro life, but it still is a good thing. she still talks all the fucking time, never shuts up. took me two hours to get her off the phone. reminded me of you, how it always confused me how you two got along, considering how little you ever said anything.

you know, i miss your awkward silences sometimes. that's weird, missing something that's by definition, an absence of something. but they weren't always bad. there was one time, after we caught dylan and todd fucking the shit out of each other in your parents room (i had to give him a high five after that, you know i did), we were sitting on one of your million balcony things and you just looked at me and-

this was after i'd caught my dad with my little sister's babysitter, remember-

you said, "you all right, harrington?"

and i said, "yeah, cool, lyons" and that was it.

it was cool, though. cause you got it. you understood that i didn't want to talk shit out. you probably understood that because you never wanted to talk about anything, but still. you got it.

that's something i miss. you and me, we could just, like- _be_. without words and sentences and other fucked up shit. most of the time, it was just uncomfortable, on my end (which is why you did it, i know you, lyons), but there were a few moments when i actually enjoyed how you were.

yeah, whatever. i know i sound like a pussy.

you'd probably fucking love it, though, wouldn't you?

derrick

;;

dear claire,

i kind of wish you would just fucking materialize. like, if you're going to haunt us, at least do it right.

derrick

;;

dear claire,

sorry for my last letter. i didn't mean- i hope you don't-

well, i don't know.

derrick

;;

dear claire,

um. nothing much to say. nothing's happened. i'd say it's about to be that time where everything goes to shit again, but it was usually you causing all the trouble, and, well-

anyway, just the usual. school, when i go. (kidding, kidding. i attend.. mostly.) hanging out with josh, and massie. she's been doing really well these last few weeks, so, that's good. smoking pot with cam and dylan.

oh, hey, news: alicia and olivia are totally fucking. damn, what i would pay to see-

joking. of course.

but seriously. _hot._

oh, i was talking to josh the other day, and i was thinking about love- don't even fucking say anything, c- and i was kind of drunk, so i asked him what it was like.

he looked at me all weird (or my vision might have just been really fucked, it was strong vodka) and asked, "what? dude, are you fucking kidding me?"

and i was like, "um no bro do you think i just ask about lame things like love all the live long day?"

and he was like "you know what love is like."

i was still pretty drunk, and i was like (apparently) all confused, so eventually, he just told me. but instead of an interesting or fun answer, he went on for twenty fucking minutes, all starry eyed like a chick, and i swear my eyes were going to pop out of their fucking sockets i was rolling them so hard.

i don't- it's not like i don't love things. i love football, and that cool foreign beer josh has in his fridge, and i love josh i guess and massie and y-

well, i don't have to say it, right. this is my letter.

but love sucks, you know? i mean, josh is all taking care of massie, constantly, still. and the odds are, she's never going to be completely herself again. but he still does it.

i think it's easier to just like shit. you can like something forever. it's hard to love something for that long. especially if they're a person.

yeah. i said i had nothing to say. i wasn't lying, so i'm not going to keep making myself look stupid.

derrick

;;

dear claire,

i remembered something else today. about us, i mean. we were sitting in someone's- massie's?- limo, laughing, on our way to some stupid charity thing that was just an excuse for the adults to look good and us to get drunk.

the whole night that came after that was fucking suckish. but i just remember laughing. you were next to me, and i was trying to pop open some bottle of champagne. i remember thinking-

like, everything was a mess, like it always is in our lives, but there was something nice about it. i guess.

i know i say this a lot, but i know you understand what i'm trying to say better than i do. you have some kind of knack for shit like this, working people out. annoying, but awesome, too. definitely awesome.

so, yeah. i was just thinking about that. i know it's stupid, like, it was just one fucking minute. but it was as if i was back there. drunk and happy and feeling like the fucking man because claire lyons was next to me, touching my arm.

we used to hate each other a lot, sometimes, but we were friends, too, weren't we? we were. couldn't have gotten shit that mixed up. nostalgia's supposed to make you look at things with rose-colored glasses but we _were._

cause i used to feel like i could tell you anything. i told you about my dad's affair, about how sometimes i felt like we didn't even fucking matter, how being rich didn't exactly make you happy (obviously)-

i still feel like that. especially now, since you can't- you know. but that's your trick, lyons, isn't it? if you're quiet long enough, then something relevant will be said by someone.

you were always smarter than me.

derrick

;;

dear claire,

i'm starting this letter by stating i'm totally drunk off my ass right now. just want to clear that up cause i'm probably not going to make any sense and say stupid shit like i used to when you'd just look at me and then i'd start talking.

remember that time, claire, when we went to cam's for a party and ended up hanging outside- by that weird ass gnome? before cam's parents divorced, i mean. before i walked in on you and him fucking, i mean.

"derrington," you'd mumbled, right up next to my ear. you had been so fucking out of it you put my first and last name together. that was weird. you were happy, but out of it.

"yeah." i'd said. i was looking for the bottle of- whatever it was, i don't even-

you grabbed my hand instead. i was going to pull away but i didn't, i don't know why. this was different than me holding hands with a girlfriend or you with your fuck of the week or something. it was doing it because you wanted to do it. because you could, just this once.

"um." i'd said and sat up. you sat up, too and your eyes looked a lot bluer in the night.

"derrick," you said, this time in a softer voice. i kind of thought maybe i'd fallen asleep and it was all a dream, or i had gotten too fucked up and my eyes were hazy from smoke.

then you kissed me.

i think you misread the look on my face because you said "oh," laughing, taking a long swallow of- bourbon, that's what it was- "don't be so you, harrington."

i knew it was a joke, then. it had to be. wasn't that funny, but shit, you were never a great comedian.

remember how i said there are things your brain makes up? sometimes i think this is one of those things. maybe i did pass out from being too drunk. maybe i did fall asleep, or maybe i just think it happened because i wanted it to.

or maybe i didn't make it up.

i just know it's the thing i remember best. out of all the things, it's the one that's stuck with me. don't know why. wish i did. maybe i wish i didn't. you probably know why.

i think maybe i know what it means too. but i also think you know why i can't think that.

the truth, i mean.

i kind of hate you for it.

derrick

;;

dear claire,

it's new years. so i guess i should probably make a resolution or something.

it's our senior year. after this, i'm getting the fuck out of dodge and never looking back. you wanted to do that, too.

i wish you could.

anyway, my resolution is: be fucking happy. i could make a list fucking miles long about shit i want, but just cause i want them, doesn't mean i need them.

so why not put down happiness and hope for the best? that's what everyone wants. even you used to, babe. deny all you want, but i knew.

i wonder, sometimes, what would have made you happy. if you had gotten older, hadn't-

i can look at a timeline of how long i've known you (since we were five years old, you kicked down my building made of legos, crazy bitch even in kindergarden) and pick things out. take away this thing, change what happened here. in my head, i have this picture of you, happy and what it would have taken to keep you that way. but i don't know if you see things my way. see, happiness is all perception, right.

like, if you look at me right now, i'm not sad.

but i kind of am. a different kind of sadness. it's heavy. i'd say loneliness if i was enough of a dick, but.

there are other words for it, and i think i know what word you'd use.

i'm kind of happy you're not around to say it.

love,

derrick

;;

fin.


End file.
